


La Femme Nikita Drabbles

by Nestra



Category: Alias, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, La Femme Nikita, Smallville, The Sentinel
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 06:30:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nestra/pseuds/Nestra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>100-word drabbles written for the LFN 100 Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Femme Nikita Drabbles

_Challenge: Assume Nikita had not been recruited into Section, and write a drabble about how things would be different. Different for her, for Michael, for Section...whatever._  
  
 **Bliss**  


He leans back in his chair, feeling his bones creak and settle with the weight of old age and responsibility.

The figure on the monitor smiles over her shoulder at someone off-screen. Her hair shines in the sunlight. She looks happy, healthy, and content. She does not know who her father is, or where her gin-soaked, drug-addled mother has disappeared to.

Mr. Jones permits himself a small sigh and switches off the monitor. If Section fails without a leader, so be it. He had weighed his options years ago and made his choice.

For his daughter, ignorance truly is bliss.

* * *

_Challenge: A defining moment. An event in a person's life where everything changes. Small, big, spectacular, unnoticed._

  
**Fiscal Responsibility**  


Lisa looked at the check in her hand, almost unable to comprehend the money it represented. Money of her own, to use as she pleased, to spend on whatever she wanted.

She could buy a house of her own and decorate it and not have to worry about David's snide comments if he didn't like the furniture or the paint color.

She could walk into the airport and stare at departure list and buy a ticket to the first place that caught her eye.

"Miss?"

She stepped forward and smiled at the teller. "I'd like to open an account, please."

* * *

_Challenge: Write a drabble focusing on a secondary character. In my opinion, the primary characters of the show were Nikita, Michael, Operations, Madeline, Walter, and Birkoff/Jason. Your drabble can include a primary character, but must focus on a secondary character._

  
**Face on a Milk Carton**  


She leaves his room untouched. The cold lights of the computers still shine solidly through the dust covering them. Thick books vie for space on every flat surface, their precarious balances exactly as he left them.

Someone from the university comes to talk to her about donating his equipment to needy students. She throws a coffee mug at him and doesn't bother to lock the door when he leaves.

To everyone else, Greg Hillinger was a genius, a brat, a prodigy, a professor, a colleague.

But he's still her son, and she won't forget, even if he never comes home.

* * *

_Challenge: On the TV series, we saw mission after mission, but not much downtime. What do our characters do when they're not working?_

  
**Haute Cuisine**  


Onions and garlic and olive oil go into a heated pan. The bread's in the oven, filling the kitchen with a warm, yeasty scent that complements the sharper smells of the concoction in the pan. He checks on the pasta, lifts out a strand to taste, decides it can use another minute.

Martin had learned to cook because he felt like Mick would know how, but he'd discovered an unexpected pleasure. You know what you put into food; you know what you'll get out of it.

Dinner's ready. He dishes it out and sits at a table set for one.

* * *

_Challenge: Write about someone arriving at Section or leaving Section. Maybe a new recruit, waking up for the first time. Maybe someone going on the run, making a bid for freedom. Maybe something as mundane as showing up for work or leaving at the end of a long day._

  
**The Definition of Insanity**  


Every time she leaves, she thinks, "Maybe this is it."

Maybe she'll figure out a way to escape. Wait until everyone is distracted, and just slip away and disappear.

Maybe she'll wait until she's assigned to surveillance, and she'll knock out her partner and hope Section doesn't kill him when they realize she's gone.

Maybe Michael will take her hand and look into her eyes, and just say, "Go." And she will.

Maybe she won't be paying attention, and a stray bullet will be her escape.

Every time she leaves, she hopes it's the last time.

But it never is.

* * *

_Challenge: Let's spice it up. Gimme some sex. Talk about it, show it, hint at it. Maybe it's a valentine mission, a stolen moment, or a leisurely reunion. Or maybe it's something else._

  
**A Guy Walks Into a Bar...**  


Birkoff looked down the length of the bar. That one. Curly brown hair, blue eyes that were striking, even from a distance.

He'd done his share of dating in Section, but at heart, Section was like a small town. Everyone knew everyone else's business. Sometimes he just needed to get away from that.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey. I'm Blair."

"Seymour."

Blair looked at him, shamelessly dragging his eyes over Birkoff's body. "You want to get out of here, Seymour?"

Birkoff leaned in and kissed him, pushing his tongue into the other man's mouth, then pulled back. "God, yes," he breathed.

* * *

_Challenge: Crossovers! Any fandom -- movie, TV, even print, however obscure. Or not obscure. Mix and match your favorite characters and situations._

  
**Common Enemy**  


There's a lull in the gunfire. You must have hit that last guy, because it's silent. Except for the sound of breathing. Not yours.

You grip your gun tighter and ease around the corner, coming face to face with... another gun. It belongs to a woman, dressed in camo, just like you. She's clearly not building security, but you don't let down your guard.

You watch each other, unmoving -- until the gunfire resumes. They're shooting at her too, so for the moment, you don't care what side she's on.

"Nikita," she says breathlessly.

"Sydney," you reply, and open fire.

(Alias)

* * *

**Girl Power**

"Come with us."

She looked left, right. Two guys. Big. Dumb.

"Gee, thanks, boys, but I already have a date for the prom."

The hands on her arms tightened. "We're from Section One."

"Section what?"

"Section One," said the guy on the right. "The most covert anti-terrorist group on the planet."

"Yeah?" she said. "Well, I'm Buffy Summers, professional vampire slayer, and you can bite me."

The guy on the left took a turn. "You don't have a choice."

She pulled free, punched one, kicked the other, and smiled down on their unconscious bodies. "Boys, I always have a choice."

(Buffy, the Vampire Slayer)

* * *

**My Boyfriend's Back**

The movement on the monitor froze as his captor clicked a remote.

"As you can see, Mr. Luthor, we have some very compromising footage of you and Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent. I can only imagine the damage to your respective careers if this tape were released to the press."

"What do you want me to do?"

Operations circled around in front of him. "LexCorp has several chemical plants in..." A nearby explosion interrupted him. "What the hell was that?"

Lex relaxed and stopped fighting his restraints. "I think you'll find that my boyfriend doesn't respond very well to threats."

(Smallville)

* * *

_Challenge: Write a drabble about your least favorite character._

  
**The Other Half Lives**  


He'd lived his whole life thinking that his face belonged to him. Why wouldn't he? You don't go around wondering if there's someone out there speaking with your mouth, looking with your eyes, living with your body.

He knows that when they look at him, they see someone else for a second, before they blink and shake it off. Doesn't matter that he's identical. Doesn't matter that he stepped into Birkoff's job, easy as could be. He'll always be the imposter, the replacement.

Some days that makes him angry. Some days, he's just glad to be the one who lived.

* * *

_Challenge: 100 words on games._

  
**Infidelity**  


Janklow's hand creeps up her thigh, pushing aside her skirt. She muffles a moan with the back of her hand.

How loud can she get before someone hears? What if Operations saw them, groping in this hallway?

His finger penetrates her, and she clenches around it. His laugh is wicked, and not kind.

She knows Janklow's not a great guy. In fact, he's a prick, the kind of guy who'd tell Birkoff just for the hell of it. And Birkoff is smart. Might find out all on his own.

Maybe he won't. Maybe he will. That's what makes it fun.

* * *

_Challenge: What did our characters do on their summer vacation? This week, set your drabble in the hiatus between any two seasons._

  
**Undertone**  


Mick stands in front of her apartment door, vial hidden in his pocket. A month ago, he'd have known without knocking whether she was home. She'd always had music on, bass pounding through walls, lyrics slipping past the door, assaulting anyone within range.

But now? No guarantees. Silence doesn't mean anything.

He could knock. Make an excuse if she answers. Pretend she's the same, nothing's changed. That she doesn't scare him shitless when she looks at him like he's nothing.

Never mind. He'll wait until he sees her leave. That way, he won't have to look her in the eyes.

* * *

_Challenge: You are allowed, during any point in canon, to set one character free of Section. Any character, big or small, but only one._

  
**Closing Night**  


"You... you d-don't need me any more? I don't understand."

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded darkly amused. "What is there to understand? Your services are no longer required. We appreciate your work over the years. You'll be taken care of - we'll send you a Swiss bank account number.

"Of course," it continued, "tell anyone about your former job and we'll have you killed before you finish another sentence." A click, then the dial tone rang in his ear.

Martin stared at the phone in his hand. "But... what am I supposed to do now?"

* * *

**Go**

"Go," she says. "Find Adam and Elena. It's the only way you'll ever be happy."

"They'll kill you." He infuses the words with everything else he never says to her.

"I talked to Birkoff and Walter. They'll help. We'll stage your death so no one looks for you." She watches as he weighs the options, the possibilities, the consequences. She's seen him make a thousand decisions, but the process has never seemed so permanent.

"I'll come back for you," and his eyes hold a promise that she won't allow him to make.

"No," she says. "You won't. But it's okay."

* * *

_Challenge: 100 words on fidelity._

  
**Broken**  


The woman arches under him. He watches as her cheeks flood red and her mouth gapes open with a breathy moan.

He hardly knows her. She's the daughter of a money launderer; once she falls asleep, he'll hack into her computer and find out her father's location. She is a tool. She is a broken vow. She is not the first.

"I love you," she gasps, dragging her fingernails across his back. Skin breaks. He'll have to be careful around Elena until the scratches heal.

Wedding vows demand fidelity, but no demands outrank Section's.

"I love you, too," he says.

* * *

_Challenge: Write about one character’s greatest weakness – his or her Achilles heel._

  
**Road Noise**  


The van's windows are blacked out, road noise her only guide. Adrian sits next to her. She hasn't spoken since Section took them.

"I'm sorry," Nikita says, feeling the weight of everything she can't explain, and everything she can.

Adrian turns to her, eyes intent, and Nikita realizes she's spent the entire ride analyzing, calculating. Even now. "You're trusting. They'll try to use that against you. Save yourself if you can, but never forget that you can't trust them."

When she looks at the window, she can see her own face reflected, pale and tired. "I won't forget," she says.

* * *

_Challenge: The lights go out in Section. What happens when Section loses power?_

  
**Darkness Falls**  


The power went out as planned, at 1600 hours.

No time to think, only to act, get it done, get it over.

Operations' neck snapped with a quick twist of his hands. No fingerprints – half of Section was equipped for missions, gloves part of their usual gear. No evidence – surveillance down along with the lights. No proof – this mission profiled more carefully than any other. By the time anyone discovered the body, he'd be back in his office. 

Michael ghosted into the deserted Armory and returned the night-vision goggles. No one would know. And he and Nikita would be safe.

* * *

_Challenge: Write a drabble either in future tense or with a second person POV. Bonus points for both._

  
**The Persistence of Memory**  


You'll grow up, safe and secure, with only the faintest memories of your mother. You'll remember her dark eyes looking at you with love, and the touch of her hand on your hair. You'll remember a time when your father was gone, but as years pass, it'll fade until it seems unreal. Your father will do anything to make you happy, and eventually you'll learn how lucky you are. 

Occasionally, when you're in the store or the park, you'll pass a woman with long blonde hair. You'll hear your father's breath catch and stutter, but you'll never ask him why. 

* * *

_Challenge: Here in the U.S., it's the end of the summer, so this week's theme is the seasons. Spring, summer, fall, and winter. Use them any way you want._

  
**Melt**  


Outside the temporary shelter, the wind howls like a lost child. Nikita takes a careful look outside and gets lashed with a faceful of snow. The portable generator's keeping them warm. Snowflakes melt, chill and delicate, on her lips. 

"It's not clearing up." 

Michael looks up from his comm. "No signal. We're cut off." 

"There's no way Section can get to us with this storm outside, is there?" 

"No." He doesn't look cold. Nothing touches him -- not gunshot wounds, certainly not something as basic as weather. Nothing, until she leans into his embrace, hoping that the snow never stops. 

* * *

_Challenge: This week's challenge: write an ending. Could be the ending you wanted to see on the show. Could be the end of a relationship, of a mission, of a storyline, of a character, of a conversation...you get the point._

  
**Role Play**  


"I can't believe you're Mr. Jones." 

He eyed her over the PDA he was holding. "That's starting to border on offensive." 

"Sorry, sir." Everything was changing. She had to change with it. 

"You'll sit in on the major interrogations -- Madeline, Operations, Michael." 

"What's going to happen to them?" 

"Worried about the people who made your life a living hell?" He chuckled dryly. "How charming." 

The secret hope she'd nursed, that the people she cared about might survive intact, flared and died. "You're really nothing like Mick, are you?" 

He smiled, and she wished he hadn't. "You have no idea." 

* * *

_Written for voleuse, who requested something set in the first two seaons._

  
**Waltz**  


They waltz, one two three, and he doesn't have to see her face to know her distress. He keeps dancing, placing his feet where they're supposed to go.

"Michael." Her voice is a hoarse plea. "They've got Simovitz."

"Yes."

"We have to help her."

"We can't."

"Michael!" She fights against his grip, drawing other couples' attention. He maneuvers them to a dark corner of the ballroom where she finally stills, breathing hard. "She's already dead, isn't she?"

He taught her this lesson. He should be glad that she finally understands. But he wishes that she still needed to be taught.


End file.
